Tortured
by SassafrassCommon
Summary: Zuko is slowly breaking. Falling out with Mai, the stress of being Firelord, and the haunting remnants of the past are making life difficult for him. But can a new, unexpected connection with Toph's cousin bring him back to his old self?


**A/N: This is my first story, so I would greatly appreciate if you dropped a review! I live off of constructive criticism! Also I shall do my best to keep everyone in character. Like, thats the most important thing to me in a fan fic. Especially since I LOVE avatar so dearly, and I've grown attached to all the character's unique personalities. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters or content created by Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino. It's all theirs. Geniuses. **

**So yeah. Enjoy...? Sorry I'm awk yo. **

Zuko sat up with a rush of adrenaline and allowed a faint sound of terror escape his throat. Digging his trembling fingers into the silk sheets, he looked around and remembered where he was. His room was pitch black, with the exception of the bright full moon peeking in through his window shades. As his fingers slowly unclenched, his stomach did not emulate that action. He turned slowly towards his door, swinging his legs over to touch the cold wood floor beneath him.

_Breathe. Just Breathe._ For now, it was all the young Firelord could do. His recurring nightmares were intruding on his sparse time of rest. The stress of rebuilding the marred world and gaining the nations' trust was something Zuko was barely managing to handle.

The Gaang was a constant support as often as possible; but with all of them busy with their own lives, he felt alone. And after the incident with Mai, he had been scarred. It was a scar on his soul, but it was as real and visible as the one that marked his face.

Time felt like it was running too slow. Everyone was taking their sweet time sucking all of the energy and humanity out of Zuko, whether they were aware of that fact or not, and it was a painful process. Some days, he would lie on his bed and writhe in agony from the sheer weight of responsibility, pain, and eminent failure bearing down on his soul.

Snapping out of thought, Zuko stood up, grabbed his robe, and walked quickly out of his room. The halls of the Fire Nation Palace were dimly lit with torches and guards stood at the entrance of every hall. The warm tones of the atmosphere made Zuko sweat profusely in spite of the breeze coming in from the freezing January outside. The silence was penetrated every so often by a guard stirring or making casual conversation with others. Despite these being small sounds, they rang in Zuko's ears, making his brain fill with animosity to everyone and everything. Rage boiled in his blood and his palms became heated with a power he'd abandoned long ago. Everything terrible he could bring to the inside of his mind was beckoned by a sick mixture of fear and grief. Amidst all of the activity inside of his body, he usually remained silent and kept a stoic facade. His outward appearance was all he had to protect himself. A thin layer of flesh to keep away the bad. During the busy day, his mind would be kept occupied with the exhausting amount of energy his position demanded daily. But as soon as night fell and he was left alone, it began. As soon as the door shut behind him, frustration and anguish ensued.

A cold rush of fierce wind cooled the heat rising in Zuko's body as he stepped barefoot unto the wet grass of the early morning. Despite the piercing Winter, he felt relief instead of a severe chill. He observed the courtyard and somehow was able to appreciate how calming it was. The small pond was frozen over and glistened with the beams of the radiant moon. The large tree next to it had received a generous amount of frost on its naked limbs, but it added just as much beauty as the colored leaves in autumn.

Zuko slowly walked his way over to the stone bench and sat down. Running his hands through his hair, he let a single tear fall silently down his cheek. As he wiped away the tear he felt the course skin of his scar and shuddered. His ugliest flaw. Another memory he drew to his ever busy mind to torture himself with.

He lifted his head to the sky and observed the night sky. It was a clear night, and it too brought memories to him. Everything he saw could be associated with another thought to tear himself down. Now that his dreams were being disturbed as well, he had nowhere to turn for solitude. It was then he decided to submit to his emotions and cry. He never cried anymore. He always bit his tongue and kept a stern face. Always.

He never cried because he feared he would never stop. And he didn't. Not until he returned himself to his room and cried himself to sleep. He cried for release. He cried for renewal. He cried for the sake of clinging onto whatever dwindling optimism was left in him. He cried for his friends. He cried for his sister. He cried for his mother. _Mom._ His mind shouted. _I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to live up to the life you've always wanted me to have. _And with that aching desire in his heart, he let sleep claim him. Waiting until the next nightmare to stir him to reality.

**-** **End of Chapter 1 -**


End file.
